A Bee in her Bonnet Chapter 9: Jenga, an emma fanfic

"OK, Gem, so how did we do last night?" Agnes asks, lighting up.

They have only just met in front of Kenwood House, and already Agnes is motoring down the hill, oblivious to the Regency drama backdrop. Agnes called Gemma first thing in the morning to schedule this emergency walk/meeting, went to look after bees she keeps in various suburban allotments, then cycled back to Hampstead Heath on her electric bike.

Based on this Gemma hadn't expected anything by way of polite preamble, but this is an abrupt start, even by Agnes's standards. It's not good to see her this stressed, even worse to imagine what she might have been like before she spent several hours elbow-deep in bees.

"We did fine, Agnes, I thought it went very well."

Gemma does not really think that, she thinks the evening was a real chore. Certainly it was for herself and, evidently, for Dylan. Most likely it was for Frank too, but he kept up a very good front, then whisked Vikas and Jane Fairfax away about 9:30pm. As soon as they vanished Agnes started moaning about how Jane Fairfax was evil and she never wanted to see her ever again, but apart from that everyone behaved themselves and kept their ill feelings to themselves so that nothing bad happened, other than Hari sharing an Uber with Martin when they all left.

It could have been a lot worse.

"It's just, look," Agnes is saying, "you know I'm no good at these things, I tried talking it over with Ade, and then Dyl called her while I was beekeeping and then she called me but it's, I mean no one apart from you can really tell me what's going on because, well,"

Gemma could try and finish that sentence, or at least she could try to guide it towards some sort of conclusion, but that would only make Agnes more confused and more frustrated so she waits, and eventually Agnes says:

"Gem, what's going on?"

"What's going on with what?"

"What's going on with us, with the deal? Who's this Jane Fairfax woman? Why was she so nasty? Why was Frank chatting you up? Why did you let him? What's going on with you and Dylan? What's going on, Gemma? Are these people trying to break us? Is there a plan? I told Ade you probably had a plan but I couldn't figure it out and…"

"Oh, Agnes, I'm so sorry."

"What's the plan, Gem?"

The mix of fear and absolute faith in Agnes' dark grey eyes takes Gemma right back to that first day they met again, quite by chance, years after they'd both left school.

Or rather it takes her back to the next time they met again, after that, at Gemma's invitation. The time Agnes couldn't believe that Gemma had actually rang her back, and could believe even less that she was buying her coffee while giving her a five year business plan for Queen Bees, together with six years' worth of banking bonuses as seed capital.

Gemma's initial plan was quite simple: take the wonderful idea Agnes had for a charity, and turn it into a business just profitable enough to do all the good Agnes could do, without actually depending on anyone's charity.

Now as then, Agnes is right, there is a plan. Of course there is. Only now the plan involves more than just the two of them, but if you lay each strand out one at a time whilst walking, even whilst walking a little faster than is natural for Gemma as Agnes still has plenty of nerves to spend, then it can all be made to make sense again.

"OK, shall I start with the deal? The deal is going well, Vikas had a moment with Patience in Obuasi, but I think they've both got over themselves. You know what Patience is like with answering calls and emails normally, but I've had a job explaining to her it's OK to talk to a man about our supply chain for washable period pants."

Agnes giggles before she takes her next drag.

"Patience can be super trying, but I think they get her now, and they've combed through most of our data room by now. They've got ten more days to finish due diligence, then hopefully we'd be signing within a couple of weeks after that. There's still a bit of haggling going on but we're doing OK, Agnes."

By "a bit of haggling" Gemma means that Frank and Vikas are forever coming up with reasons to lower their initial valuation of Queen Bees. Only to be expected, de bonne guerre as they would say at Montage's Paris headquarters, but this means that every day they increase the percentage stake they demand in exchange for their investment in Queen Bees. In Frank's words they are "one small hive beetle outbreak" away from not being able to finance the whole France expansion without taking a majority stake, which Agnes and Gemma will never relinquish.

But Gemma has checked and double checked with Agnes and the bees are keeping healthy. Still, last night she dreamt about slimy grey grubs devouring honeycomb and even eating bees, swallowing them whole, like mini slimy boa constrictors. It woke her up and she had to reason herself back to sleep: small hive beetle larva do do a lot of damage, but they do not eat bees.

Asian Hornets do that, but there's no Asian Hornets in Africa -yet- and everything is going to be fine.

Just fine.

"You're not scared?" Agnes asks.

"I'm a little scared, yes. This is big. Almost doubling size overnight, it's a little daunting but I think we're ready. They wouldn't invest in us if we weren't ready."

"Yes, that makes sense."

Most people derive no emotional comfort from things making sense, but this is the great thing about Agnes. Where Gemma has to keep telling herself, again and again, that indeed Montage wouldn't be going ahead with the investment if they didn't think Queen Bees were ready for it, with Agnes she's taken it in and now she's fine because it's a fact. It's true, it holds. Facts and truths hold Agnes together so well, she will never understand what boring neuro-normative people like Gemma call comfort eating.

Gemma watches Agnes nod to herself a couple of times, light up another cigarette and, mercifully, slow down a bit.

"Oh, and Frank's offered to take us both to meet with their AI warehousing guys for a site visit in Bretigny sur Orges on Thursday, are you OK to go?"

"Yeah that sounds cool. Really cool. Could stay over the weekend and go and see Markus."

Markus is Agnes's twelve-year-old, half-German step-brother on her dad's side. Markus's mum divorced Agnes's dad ages ago but they still live in Paris.

"We've got to take Hari on the trip, obviously, or Vikas will be crushed."

"Sure, so what about Frank then?"

"What about him?"

"Who is he? Is he hot French guy, still? Or is he just some suit we gotta get past? I mean do you like him? Dylan hates him. But really hates him."

"OK, OK, that's a lot of questions, Agnes. Frank is hot and French, obviously, I mean the guy can't help it."

"So you think he's hot."

"Agnes, be fair, even you think he's hot. Even Dylan, clearly, thinks he's hot, else he wouldn't hate the poor guy half so much."

"But do you like him?"

"Of course I like him. He's nice, he's funny and he's going to give us all the money we need and more. What's not to like?"

"So you like him and you think he's hot?"

"Yes. Yes, Agnes, I do like him, and I do think he's hot."

"And he likes you, I mean Dylan said he was chatting you up last night. Was he?"

Gemma thinks about it.

"Yes, you could say he's actually chatted me up a number of times, including last night."

"Why?"

"You'd have to ask him that, Agnes."

"But why did you let him?"

"I can't exactly… I mean, he's being perfectly nice and polite, and we're doing business with the guy, why would I not…"

"So you're letting him come on to you so that we can get the money? Gemma, I don't want you to have to do that, OK? That's the thing! That is the thing! Sod him! Don't let him harass you. We'll find money somewhere else, or we'll wait, but you don't have to do this."

"Wow, hang on, who mentioned harassment here? He's no Harvey Weinstein, Agnes. Nothing's happened, we just banter, I don't mind."

"So you like him?"

"I already told you that I did."

"Like him like him: you actually liked him chatting you up?"

"I… I don't think I minded, no."

"But what about Dylan?"

"That's none of his business."

"But you like Dylan!"

"I do yes."

"No you definitely like him like him. You like him naked. That's an established fact."

Ah yes, facts. Sometimes they catch up with you. Sometimes unpeeling an inconvenient truth from Agnes's supportive edifice of established facts feels like playing Jenga.

"So why do you let Frank chat you up if you like Dylan naked and he loves you too?"

"Because I'm not a very nice person?"

"What?"

"Well clearly I'm not. I'm really not sure why Dylan would go around saying he loves me when… well he doesn't love me as I am, you know. What he really loves is telling me why and how I'm wrong all the time."

"Gem, you OK?"

"Why, yes, of course I'm OK. I'm just…"

I'm just a little fed up with him playing the victim in all this! I'm a little fed up with him still making out that he's not good enough for me when, Jesus, I said that once! When I was very young, to get rid of him, and from where I stand I'm the one who's never been good enough for him and never will be. Arrgh!

…is what Gemma would be telling Agnes, if only Agnes could be trusted to keep this to herself, which she can't. It's not her fault either. She'd only repeat it because she trusts Gemma so blindly always to tell the truth that, well, why wouldn't she want to tell everyone else?

Even Agnes can tell that Gemma is not happy though:

"You don't look OK, Gem, what can I do?"

"You can tell me what else worries you."

"What if Dylan's right and Frank's an asshole?"

"That won't matter. If Dylan means it in a personal sense, then Frank's going to be out of the picture as soon as we sign. And if he means it in a corporate sense, then I don't see what harm can be done while Montage only have a minority stake, we'll still get to make all the decisions and I'm not planning on firing myself, or you for that matter. So we're fine, Agnes. Either way we're fine."

"OK, yes, that makes sense."

Gemma can tell because Agnes slows down another fraction and doesn't light another cigarette.

"Good."

"That leaves Jane bloody Fairfax though. What the fuck?"

"What did she do that was so bad?"

"She spent the first half of the evening grilling us about you, and about you and Dylan, whether you were together and then about why you weren't together and I tried to explain but Adrienne gave me the Signal so I couldn't."

The Signal is a source of immense frustration for Agnes, but she is ever so good about it: the moment you touch her arm and ask her whether she's got a spot on her sleeve or, oh no, it's just water or something, she clams right up. Won't even talk about bees. Won't talk at all, until you give her the Counter Signal, which is to offer her something: gum, water, a pen, cookie anything.

"It's a good thing Ade gave you the signal, Agnes. All Montage need to know is that Dylan and I are not together."

"But why not?"

"Having a boyfriend running a hedge fund probably wouldn't be a deal breaker at our current size, but if Montage ever consider us listing it could be awkward, you know, insider information and all that."

"Oh wait," Agnes says, brushing Gemma's arm as she takes her cigarette out of her mouth, "What's that on your sleeve?"

Gemma looks at it, it looks fine but… wait: has Agnes just given her the Signal? What do you know, she has:

"Gemma," Agnes says, "I do know why Montage don't want you dating Dylan, what I can't figure out is why you're not dating him anyway. Frank drives him mad, Gem, seriously, you're driving the poor guy mad with jealousy."

"Oh I know. And since Dylan's not great at hiding his feelings I had a jolly good grilling from Frank about him too, thank you very much. Agnes, let's not go over this again. You know why I can't be with Dylan."

"But you love each other!"

"Agnes, if we loved each other we'd be able to quit fighting for five minutes together. And anyway, to get back to Jane Fairfax, look, I don't like her much either, but she was only doing her job. Not very well, clearly, she wasn't exactly being subtle about it, but that's what they're paying her to do. It's fair enough that they want to know about anything that might take our focus away from the business."

"Is that why she was chatting Adrienne up? To see if we could be broken up?"

"What?"

Goodness, for Agnes to have noticed a charm offensive on anyone, it must have been something on the scale of Blitzkrieg.

"She followed her into the bloody toilet, I wanted to kill her!"

"Oh my god! Thank you for not killing her, Agnes. Well done. It must have been some sort of test, yes, either of your relationship, or of your nerves,"

"The fucking cow."

"… or of both." Gemma realises, "Perhaps the woman isn't actually that bad at her job, you know, else she would have hit on you, not Adrienne."

The thought makes her stop in her steps, and turn around, and sure enough the green pumps, somewhat muddied by their trek through the Kenwood enclosure, are breaching over the brow of Parliament Hill.

"Can you believe that fucking bitch?"

"No no, wait," says Gemma, holding Agnes back.

"Ms Fairfax! Ms Fairfax!" she cries, waving.

"What the fuck?"

"Next leg of the plan, Agnes: we're having coffee with her, you and I. We're telling her all she wants to know and then we're getting her out of our lives for good. I can't have her upset you like this, come on, let's get this sorted, once and for all."

"Oh poor Ms Fairfax!" Gemma says, walking back up the hill to meet her, "Good morning, but I do hope you charge overtime rates to work these crazy hours?"

"Good morning," says Ms Fairfax, her tone even flatter than her pumps.

"Hey," is all Agnes manages, and Gemma rewards her with a smile.

"Agnes and I were about to grab a coffee down by the tennis courts, I do hope you will join us?"

"I…"

"Oh, please, Ms Fairfax! I won't have you traipse after us like this, and in your beautiful shoes too! Pretty Ballerinas, aren't they? They must have cost a fortune, shame on you for ruining them, I hope you charge that to Montage too?"

"That's alright, Ms Woodhouse,"

"Please, call me Gemma."

"Why, would you call me Jane?"

"Of course! Jane, then: if I could get away with wearing flats the way you gorgeous tall people do, I would have bought a pair of these the moment they came out. I can't believe they're being sacrificed on the altar of due diligence and I'm damned if I let that sorry state of affair carry on a minute longer than necessary. Enough of this snooping around: have a coffee with us, and we'll tell you everything you want to know, promise."

"Sure, OK," Jane Fairfax says in her sultry voice. She looks less than keen but, Gemma casts her mind back, when was the last time Jane Fairfax looked keen on anything? Jane has the kind of smoky voiced, reluctant delivery Agnes had at fifteen. It wasn't clever then, and it's not at all becoming on a full grown up.

Like Agnes, Jane walks fast, and after a few steps Gemma wonders whether the two of them are in fact racing each other down the hill. They turn left, stand silent in the queue for lazy weekend coffees, then settle at one of the outside tables.

"You won't mind talking in front of all these people?" Jane asks, again putting Gemma in mind of a reluctant teenager. Why does the woman do this deeply objectionable job, snooping on her own sex, if she doesn't even enjoy it?

"Jane, that's my point: we have absolutely nothing to hide. This must be the dullest assignment you've ever been on."

Jane shrugs, but perhaps that is her problem. Perhaps she is actually a very good PI, and this assignment is insultingly easy for her.

"There's only one catch: for each question you ask us we get to ask you one back. Now what would you like to know?"

"Mostly it's your relationship status they're still worried about. The rest squares out, I mean they're not mad about her ADHD but mostly they worry you're going to be, I don't know, seduced out of your business or something."

"Fucking typical blokes," Agnes says.

"No no, they'd do exactly the same to men," Gemma says, then to Jane: "What is so unfathomable about our relationship status, then?"

"They can't believe you're this single," Jane says to Gemma then, finally addressing Agnes directly, "and you're this loved up."

"Is that why you hit on my girlfriend last night?"

"It is, yeah, sorry. She did good, wasn't interested."

"Too right she wasn't."

"Like I said I'm sorry, all part of the job."

"Is it a part of the job you enjoy?" Gemma asks, genuinely curious. Jane turns her elegant, impassive face her way:

"Sometimes. Sometimes I have to chat up total creepy jerks and then shake them off again afterwards. But Ade didn't bite and she's nice so yes, last night was fun for me."

Well who would have thought it: someone did have fun last night. Also Ade is not "nice", she is old and wise beyond her years, and yet she moves with the self-conscious lightness and grace of a fourteen year old ballerina. Seriously, how dare this woman call Adrienne nice, or call her Ade, and how is Agnes keeping it together?

Barely, by the look on her face.

"I'm sorry I upset you," Jane says to her.

"Do you date women then?"

"Uh, yes."

"Stay off my girlfriend."

"OK."

"Good, well, glad that's cleared up," Gemma says cheerfully, "anything else?"

"Yes: why are you so single? It's pretty obvious you and Dylan have the hots for each other but Agnes and Ade wouldn't tell me what's going on."

"Nothing's going on, that's why."

"Has it in the past?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"And that was a mistake, which will not be repeated."

"He doesn't look over it to me."

"Nor am I."

Both Agnes and Jane stare at her.

"This only happened a few weeks ago so to tell you the truth I think we both found it a little tough finding our feet again with every one of you people watching us last night. I'd say that all things considered we did OK, though."

"Kudos," Jane says, nodding.

"But yes, as you already gathered I'm not big on romantic entanglements, and much though I like him not even Dylan's managed to change my mind."

"Commitment issues, much?" Jane asks.

"Not to work, or friends, I have no issues with committing to things and people that give back to me."

"But you don't miss love?"

"If you mean sex, Agnes and I were at boarding school for long enough to know how to take care of ourselves. For the rest men just…"

"You ever tried women?"

"Obviously: I told you, we both went to the same girls boarding school. And I'm sorry but yes, I do prefer men, for that purpose."

"You just don't want one full time?"

"No, full time, men only tie you down. Look at my father."

"Is he sick or something, is that why you still live with him? Nothing turned up on his med check either but…"

"He's not ill, no, thank you so much for checking," Gemma says, with a touch more bitter irony than she had intended, "He's a lovely man who would otherwise live on his own, and he's very easy company. About as nice as they get, really. A gentle man, funny – rich, obviously. Cultured, curious."

"But?"

"But I've known him all my life, Jane, and the end of the day if being the love this man's life couldn't make my mother happy, then..."

"Then?"

"He really really loved her, you know, arguably he still loves her. But for some people loving and being loved is not enough. My mother didn't train to be a mother, or a wife, she trained to be an architect. But she met my dad. My lovely dad. So she never finished her degree project. It was a redesign of the lido, the one across the field there," Gemma says, pointing across an expanse of grass at the 1930s brick wall surrounding the current lido.

"Have you ever been inside? Mum's drawings of it are just amazing. But instead of graduating she had my sister, then she rebuilt the house we all live in. Did a beautiful job too, obviously, and then she did our cottage in Southwold, but then she ran out of redesigning so she had me, and then she drank herself to an early death on the day of my second birthday party."

Silence.

No one is enjoying this, but if that is what it takes for Montage to understand that no, Gemma is not about to fall head over heels into blind stupid love with the first man that takes her fancy, then it was worth doing.

"I think we can all agree: you can tell Frank and Geoff they don't need to worry about me. I'm not going to drop Queen Bees for any man. I trust that's clear now?"

"Very clear, thanks. And, well… sorry."

"Not your fault," Gemma smiles, "Now our turn: why did you become a PI?"

"It was better than being a nanny."

"You were a nanny?"

Jane nods while Gemma with some difficulty represses an urge to laugh.

"A… a live-in nanny?"

Gemma tries to picture the ice queen, as Frank called her, taking care of babies. She must have been really desperate for a job. Almost as desperate as her poor employers. Perhaps their kids were more than usually horrid and they couldn't get anyone else to stick it out with them?

"I'm sorry," Gemma says. "I… I'm sorry, I am assuming you didn't like that job?"

"Fucking hated it, and the kids weren't even the worse of it."

"I know, it's so hard, I certainly couldn't hack it. I have five nephews, by the way, so here's another thing you can put Geoff's mind at rest over: I've had enough of babies to last me a lifetime."

"Noted."

"And how did you go from that to PI then?"

"Via cheating slimeball husbands sleeping with their au-pairs, and suspicious wives with an eye on divorce settlements."

"Entrapment?"

"'course, par for the course."

Jane does not appear to see what Gemma or Agnes's objection might be with her being the instrument of breaking married couples, however unhappily married.

"And… do you enjoy that line of work?"

"Not particularly, no, but the pay beats nannying."

"Right."

Agnes is fiddling with her now empty coffee cup and lighting up again.

"Can I bum one?" Jane asks, and despite Jane's complete omission of Ps and Qs Agnes obliges, and even lights it up for her.

"So basically," Jane says to Gemma after her first drag, "you've got massive Mummy issues and you," she points at Agnes, "have got massive Daddy ones."

"You do put it so nicely, yes, and perhaps that's why we complement each other so well. Anyway that explains why neither of us are about to abandon Queen Bees. Did you have any more questions for us? Grey areas we can clear up?"

"Nope, makes sense now."

"I am so glad it does," Gemma says, whose patience with Jane came to an end a while back.

"No wait, one more thing: what about Frank?", Jane starts again.

"What about him?"

"Anything going on between you two?"

"Obviously not. Frank's off limits until we sign the deal."

"And then?" Jane asks, peering through her smoke.

"And then he won't be anymore?"

"And then?" Jane asks again.

Gemma is reminded of Elisabeth Bennet's delightful stroll in the company of Lady Catherine de Burgh. What kind of business of Jane is it what she and Frank get up to?

"I'm afraid I really can't tell you what will or won't happen then."

Jane and Agnes look at each other, then at her. The irony, of course, is that unlike with Lizzie Bennet and Mr Darcy, Gemma holds no strong feelings towards Frank. It's just that Dylan, Agnes, Adrienne and now Jane are all ganging up to declare him off limits and that is neither fair, nor indeed any of their beeswax.

"Why can't you tell me?" Jane asks.

"It's more that I won't," Gemma says, looking her straight in the eye.

Jane nods. She looks almost as shell shocked as Agnes does but seriously, what business is it of hers? Unless… but no, Jane just said she was into girls.

"For now I am going to walk to the gym and Agnes is going to go home and shower and probably have a couple of hours' tantric sex with her girlfriend. Why don't you go home yourself, Jane, and put all that you've learnt into your report, and hopefully that will be the last one you ever have to write about us and you can move on to a more interesting next assignment?"

Jane nods.

"Good bye, Jane."

"Bye."

"And, Jane, if you ever want to be a Queen Bee instead of a PI do call us. You'd make an excellent Queen of Finding Stuff Out."